


everybody's crazy ('bout a sharp dressed man)

by midnightluck



Series: moon magic sparkle sparkle [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Ace's life is hard okay, Alternate Universe - Sailor Moon Fusion, Gen, Pirates doing dumb things in very short skirts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-06-09 04:54:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15259866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightluck/pseuds/midnightluck
Summary: Ace may have been born to be Sailor Moon, leader of the Sailor Scouts and protector of the Throne of the Moon, and he may have to lie to everyone and wear a short skirt to fight evil by moonlight or some such shit, but hedoesn't have to like it.





	1. Magical, Miserable, and Other Things Ace Apparently Is Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Justm3h](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justm3h/gifts).



> I'm still not happy with this prologue tbh but I've been unhappy with it for...a long time, so. Moving on! Not beta'd because no one was willing oops
> 
> [fantastic art](https://midnightluck.tumblr.com/post/161219693884/justm3h-oh-man-ive-held-on-to-these-for-long) by [justm3h](http://justm3h.tumblr.com) if you haven't seen it already

The thing about this whole mess is it’s just so very, very dumb. There are a million and three ways it could have (and really ought to have) been avoided.

Gol D. Roger could have just not passed on the family inheritance. Rouge could have seen he was a boy and decided not to push it on him. Garp needn’t have given him the shiny magical necklace, and Ace really didn’t have to touch it and say the magic words, just to know what would happen.

But he did and she did and he did and Ace certainly did, for all he regrets it now. 

Turns out that what happens is, there’s a flash of rainbow everything, he suddenly levitates a bit, and actually cannot stop his body from moving as ribbons appear to strangle him and weights dig into his ears and his back bends in a frankly painful arch and a brand is applied to his forehead. 

It lasts for just a bit longer than forever, and ends in the dumbest pose he could possibly imagine, one with a wink and a smile and pointing fingers that he will never be caught dead in again, not ever. 

There’s words on his tongue, too, words that want to be said, but what really comes out is a shriek.

It’s bad enough that the top is really tight across his shoulders, but the gloves are also  _ white  _ and really delicate looking, the boots have a lot of ribbon but no decent sole or support, and overall, he lives in a forest and this is the least practical outfit ever for that.

And that’s before he finds the fancy dangly earrings or the giant bow over his butt.

Really, it’s no wonder he panics and runs.

He finally trips and stops a while later, on the edge of the Grey Terminal, and that’s when he discovers that, for all he’s been tearing through a forest in a white leotard, it’s still spotless. The delicate gloves have been used to catch branches and hit cliff walls, and by all rights they should be shreds, or at the very least, dirty. The blue skirt is not even close to long enough to protect his legs, but none of the branches he hit left marks on his skin. And for all that he’s never in his life worn boots with so little ankle bracing or so much heel, he didn’t trip once because of them. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s never run faster or jumped higher than he did just then.

But. There’s something sticky on his lips.

He tries to tug off one of the gloves to touch his mouth, but it won’t come off. Neither will the boots, or the earrings, or the crown-thing he discovers on his forehead.

And that’s when he realizes that Garp didn’t tell him how to turn the damn thing off.

 

* * *

When he finally calms down, he tries to logic it out. Saying the words again doesn’t turn it off, he can’t remove any part of his new outfit, and nothing can hurt either it or him while he’s wearing it.

He’s gonna be stuck like this for the rest of his life. His self-pity party is immediate and deep.

“Hey,” the random kid perched halfway up a nearby trash pile says to him.

Ace looks up, scowls and says. “What do  _ you  _ want?”

“Nothing,” the kid replies. “I was just wondering if you were the Moon Princess.”

Ace groans and hides his face forever. “I hate my life.”

“So that’s a yes, then,” The kid performs a few nimble leaps and then skids down the rest of the trash pile, landing by Ace. He looks Ace (and Ace’s outfit) up and down a few times, then finally offers, “Mine’s blue.”

Ace nearly cries in sheer relief. He immediately springs up and tackles the other boy, who’s a bit shorter and a lot dirtier than he is. “Please please  _ please  _ tell me you know how to turn it off.”

The kid does know how to turn it off. He even tells Ace, after a long period of pointing and laughing.

“Just, like, imagine your transformation item, and then do it backwards,” the kid says, which seems obvious and unhelpful.

But Ace will take literally anything at this point, so he grabs his necklace and focuses on the feel of it under his hand, and then imagines all the glitter and rainbows and ribbons being sucked back into the beads.

Warm wind surrounds him for a second, and then his head gets all spinny and his knees hit the ground.

“First time, huh?” the kid asks from a long ways away. “It’s really draining, isn’t it? Just wait til you start using your magic.”

“Magic?” Ace, well, okay, whines. At least his head’s stopped spinning. “I don’t want magic! I don’t want any of this!”

“Too bad.” He sounds so unsympathetic, though. “No one asked us if we wanted magical powers, and also you’re going to have to learn to collapse like a girl.”

“What?!”

“Well, look! If you’re gonna fight in a skirt, you’re gonna collapse in a skirt, and if you fall like that…”

Ace looks down. He’d fallen with his legs out in front of him, arms supporting himself from behind, and unconsciously bent his knees when he sat back up. “...oh.”

The kid sits down next to him in a neat tailor’s-seat. “My name’s Sabo,” he says, dipping his top hat in greeting. “But I’m also Mercury.”

“Ace,” Ace responds. “I’m--no, I can’t, sorry.”

Sabo laughs at him some more, but also says, “I’m no expert, but I can show you what I do know about being a Sailor Scout.”

Ace eyes him warily. “Does that include collapsing like a girl?”

Sabo grins cheerfully back. “We’ll start there,” he decides. “And then move on to the magic.”

“Why do you even know this?”

Sabo’s face draws up into a scowl, and he looks away. “That doesn’t matter. Do you want my help or not?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Okay, teach me, then.”

“First things first,” Sabo says. “Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a kingdom on the moon.”

After Ace has been bonked on the head and is listening properly again, he continues. “There was a kingdom on the moon and they were peaceful and happy and--no, shut up, seriously. Okay, so they were peaceful ‘cause they had the strongest army, okay? And the pride of that army was the Royal Sailor Scouts, who drew their powers from the planets themselves. They were supposed to protect the Moon Princess, who could channel the power of the moon itself. 

“But then the youma, who were chaotic and cruel and had been banished, decided to attack. They wiped out the kingdom, there was a whole war, yadda yadda yadda. Point being, the Moon Queen cast a spell to allow the Moon Princess and her Sailor Scouts to reincarnate to fight the youma and restore the Moon Kingdom. And it seems the Sailor Powers have been passed down ever since.”

Ace waits a moment, but that’s it. “So….how do I get rid of it?”

Sabo stares at him. “You  _ can’t,”  _ he says, voice heavy with the unspoken  _ duh _ . “Were you even listening? You’re the reincarnation of the Moon Princess; there’s no getting rid of it.”

Ace groans and falls over backwards. “Noooooooooooo,” he whines. “Make it go away.”

“You can at least hide it. The last Moon Princess was a pirate, I think,” Sabo tells him, like it’ll make him feel better. “Really pissed off the Marines, at any rate. They’ve got a standing bounty on the Moon Princess, so, y’know. Hiding’s actually probably your best bet.”

“Every time I think it can’t get worse, you open your mouth and it  _ does _ ,” Ace says balefully.

Sabo ignores him and keeps talking. “Other places see the Sailor Scouts as a status symbol,” and his voice is suddenly bitter, before he stops. “I heard that there’s a Sailor Scout in the Grand Line, though, as a pirate. Sailor Venus, I think? So it’s not like this’ll dictate your life.”

Except it will, of course it will. He’s not even ten and he’s already wanted twice over. “I’m gonna be a pirate,” he tells Sabo, even though Sabo didn’t ask. “I don’t care who wants me or why, or how much money they put on my head. I’m gonna be a pirate and I’m gonna be  _ free _ .”

“We’re Sailor Scouts,” Sabo says, and the bitterness is back. “We’ll never be free.”

They stay there in silence for a while, Sabo sitting and Ace collapsed on his back. Finally, Ace manages a sigh. He sits back up, looks over at Sab and says. “So? You gonna show me how to fight in a skirt or what?”

And Sabo grins, and then Sabo  _ does _ .

Ace regrets asking almost immediately.

 

* * *

Magic, it turns out, is hard. Magic is annoying and unpredictable and Ace just cannot get it to work on demand.

Sabo does not have this problem. His problem is keeping a straight face when Ace says the words, does the pose, and nothing happens.

“You’ve just got to feel it in your soul,” he says unhelpfully, perched on a rock. “It’s like the same feeling as when you transform, all  _ swish _ and warm, y’know?”

Ace does not know, thank you, and that doesn’t even make  _ sense _ . He huffs and falls back on his own rock. “I don’t understand,” he whines. “It’s not working.”

“You’ve got to really want it to,” Sabo says, leaning forward. “You’ve got to need it, you know? Course, it also helps if you accept the moon magic into your soul--”

Ace makes a horrified yelp of denial and tackles Sabo, or at least tries to. Sabo laughs at him, jumps from the rock, and transforms in midair. It’s Mercury who hits the ground behind Ace and who points and laughs.

“You really need to learn how to fall,” Mercury says, and Ace makes a noise that is totally not a squeak, no way, and flips over, scooching over and back until his legs are under him.

“Stop telling me that!”

“I’d be glad to,” Mercury says,  making a bubbly flourish just because he can, the bastard. “Just as soon as it’s not necessary.”

 

* * *

There’s a snot-nosed brat who won’t leave Ace alone. 

It’s annoying as hell, and Ace does his level best to ditch him. The kid clings like a leech, though, and if he’s not actively suicidal, he sure doesn’t have much in the way of self preservation. The only lure that seems to be stronger than Ace himself is meat, and Ace soon finds himself reduced to throwing chunks of meat in one direction and fleeing in the other.

But the kid cannot take fuck off and die for an answer, apparently, and one day he gets himself caught, and then Ace has to go save the brat, of course, and then he’s stuck with him. Well, they’re stuck with him, more like.

Because of course Sabo thinks the brat is precious. Sabo likes  _ Ace, _ so obviously his taste in people sucks.

Still, he’s helpful, in his own way. He’s at least a new challenge to spar against, even if he’s not much of one; he can’t use magic, after all.

Though he can’t use his Devil Fruit either. Or even his own body.

He  _ really _ sucks at fighting.

“Gum gum—” Luffy starts, halfway through their daily fights, and Ace snorts and steps just enough to the side that when Luffy yells “—Punch!” he goes flying right past Ace.

And bounces off a tree and off the ledge.

“Oh,” says Luffy as he tips over, and Ace takes a second to blink because surely even Luffy couldn’t be that dumb—

But no rubber arm comes shooting up to grab at a tree, and there is, in fact, a loud splash.

Ace stares at Sabo.

Sabo stares at Ace.

“He’s really dumb,” Ace says flatly, and then they both go skidding towards the edge as fast as possible.

The ravine here is deep, though, and the water through it is fast; Luffy’s already out of sight. “C’mon,” Ace says, already turning. “Maybe we can catch him at the bridge—”

There’s a rush down his spine and the world slows behind him for a single thick second before blue and glitter explodes past him. “We can’t catch up,” Sabo—no, Mercury says. “The water’s too fast.”

But Sailor Scouts can jump higher and run faster, and yes, exactly, that’s a good thing. Ace grabs his necklace and nearly trips over the words, he’s going so fast, but he can’t rush the transformation, and if it seems like whole minutes of twirling to him, he knows it’s only a second or two in reality.

By the time he steps out of the pose, Mercury’s got his goggles down and his hands in front of him, braced. He’s muttering under his breath but Sailor Moon doesn’t have time for this—Ace is already taking off, leaping over the ledge and trusting his boots to help him find grip on the rock walls.

They do, through magic or strength or what-the-hell-ever, and Ace is off, bouncing from wall to wall, eyes scanning every which way for Luffy. He’s almost to the bridge when the water stops.

It just stops, stops flowing and moving, like a second frozen in time. Ace is in the air and he nearly miffs his next landing because he’s too busy staring to check his position.

And then there’s a rumble, a loud sound of angry earth, and the water starts moving again, stuttering forward and rapidly dropping in level. Ace pushes off the wall and jumps for the bridge; whatever’s happening, he does not want to be caught in the ravine.

And that, it turns out, is a good call. He’s squinting back towards the forest to see if he can See Mercury from here when a shadow falls over him from behind.

Ah, Ace thinks, turning around and looking up and up and up.

Well, he can’t fault Mercury’s logic, he supposes; making the water bring Luffy to them is a good plan.

But he absolutely can fault Mercury’s execution, and he does, loudly and viciously, even as he catches a glimpse of black and red cresting the top of the tsunami headed right for him.

“I hate you  _ so much _ ,” Ace mutters, then backs up as much as he can, puts as much power as possible in the two steps he gets, and jumps, pushing off the rope railing so hard it unravels beneath his boot.

But he’s already airborne, aiming for where he saw that flash of color, and he punches through the wave near the tip where it’s thin. He has to keep his eyes open and the salt burns, but his grasping hands catch on oddly-smooth skin and he grabs hold, pulling Luffy up with him.

The water’s taken most of his momentum, though, and he’s no longer gonna clear the wave, especially not with all this extra weight in his arms.

He opens his mouth to curse and swallows seawater instead, which is just a mistake all the way around. It breaks his concentration just a bit, but just a bit is enough and the wave tugs him in and around and under.

It’s quiet, is what he notices when he’s underwater again with burning eyes and protesting lungs. It’s quiet but quick and it’ll probably kill him without care or reason, and that’s almost worse.

He still manages to twist around til he’s moving backwards so he can get Luffy in front of him, though; when they come down, they’re gonna come down  _ hard-- _

His back slams into something hard and the little air he had is punched out of his body as the water pressure sandwiches him between a wave and a hard place.  _ What, _ he thinks, and  _ it’s too soon for the ground _ ….

There’s an odd double pressure, like bars, like slats, and of course, of  _ course _ , it’s the  _ bridge _ .

Only the bridge is broken, isn’t it, because he snapped the rope; that means that when the water pressure passed, he’d be--

It ebbs and Ace starts to slip. He gropes for a grip with both feet and one hand, trying to balance Luffy against his body as his desperate fingers close around one of the ropes still intact and the wave rushes off without them.

Only now he’s supporting both their weight by one precarious grip on very wet rope, and the creaking noises are kinda alarming.

“Sabo!” he hollers, dangling as loose as he can manage.. “Could use a hand here!” He hopes Mercury gets over here soon, though; the strain on his shoulder is starting to set in and Luffy--

Luffy’s not breathing.

Luffy’s  _ not breathing _ . 

It doesn’t matter if his shoulder hurts or if there’s water in his lungs or anything else; he  _ pulls _ , scrabbling with his boots to get some leverage, any kind of grip, and manages just as his wet glove slips off the wet rope.

Well, that’s fine. Just gives him two arms to wrap around Luffy, and he needs those to keep floppy limbs out of the way while he aims for the ravine walls and takes them at a controlled fall, just over to that rock so he can bounce up and over and touch down hard on the solid ground of the forest.

Luffy’s not breathing and there’s a fire in his heart, a denial in his soul, and words on his lips, so he lets them spill out.

“Moon Healing Magic!” 

It’s like his transformation, only not at all. There’s swirls and twisting and a surge of energy in his veins that burns like sake, and he feels it build up until it’s too big to hold. It explodes out in a silver shower of moondust, and he focuses on Luffy and hopes and hopes--

Luffy takes a deep breath and sputters, turning over and twisting to cough water up everywhere, and Ace lets the transformation go and collapses.

“Magic is exhausting,” Sabo says behind him, and he looks up to check, but yes, it is Sabo, not Mercury.

“It’s awful,” he agrees, but Luffy is breathing so it’s not as bad as all that.

“Yeah,” Sabo says, coming to squat beside him, eyes also stuck on Luffy, who’s sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Hey, Ace…”

“Yeah?”

“You really need to work on the falling down part.”

Ace looks down, blushes, and finds that maybe he does have some energy left after all.

 

* * *

The first time one of them transforms, after, Luffy doesn’t blink.

"Waaaaaah!" he shouts, running up to tug on Sabo's skirt. "Hey, how'd you do that?! Hey, can I do it too?"

"I don't think so, squirt," Sabo says fondly. "You gotta be born to it, and you'd know if you were."

Ace blows out a breath. Of Course Luffy thinks it’s cool. Of  _ course _ he would. "Gramps would've said if you had powers," Ace says, and Luffy turns to pat his outfit. "No, what are you--ow, don't pull on that!"

"I want that too!" Luffy demands, and Ace huffs. Sabo's giving him a look, though, and Ace rolls his eyes but nods; just because Luffy doesn't have magic doesn't mean he can't have an outfit. They'll talk to Makino next time they're in town.

And they do, and she pats Luffy on the head and coos at him. “You’re not a Scout,” she tells him fondly, “but you can still be a hero!”

“I don’t wanna be a hero!” Luffy pouts. “Are all the Scouts heroes?”

Oh, Ace hadn’t thought of that. He turns his eyes towards Makino as she smiles at them, and he really hopes not.

“No,” she says, “and yes. The Sailor Scouts saved the Moon Princess, so they were heroes, in the end. They protected her when the moon fell, and the Moon Princess pulled magic from the earth itself to save them. That’s why we have such large oceans now, you see. But the Scouts had a mission, which was the protection of the Moon Kingdom; they didn’t go around helping everyone for no reason.”

Well, that’s...not as awful as he was expecting.

“And the Sailor Scouts still protect the Moon Princess,” she says, eyes on where Sabo’s standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Ace. “So it was, and so it is.”

Ace glances sideways at Sabo, his brother, his Mercury, and Sabo grins back at him. “Hear that?” Sabo says, nudging him. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Ace huffs and crosses his arms, but that’s fine; it’s nice to know Sabo’s not gonna be chased off by this awful destiny dropped on his head by an uncaring world and an idiot gramps.

“How do you know all this, though?” Sabo asks. “I mean, I got the lessons, like the rest of the potentials, but you’re not in a Sailor Lineage, right?”

“Ah,” Makino says, and winks. “That would be telling.”

“Telling what?”

“That she’s a magic moon cat sometimes,” Ace says. 

Sabo blinks. “She’s--what?”

“Shh,” Makino says, and Ace can almost see a tail twitching behind her, if he unfocuses his eyes the right way and touches his necklace. “Let’s keep that just between us, okay?”

“There’s another magic moon cat,” Ace tells Sabo. “I haven’t met him yet. He’s off with Venus, I think.”

“You’ll meet him soon,” Makino says, ruffling his hair. “Now why don’t you boys come inside? I’ll take some measurements and see about getting Luffy an outfit, and in the meantime, we can get you something to eat.”

“Meat!” Luffy cheers, tuning back in and grabbing Makino’s hand.

She laughs and leads them inside.

 

* * *

The skirt is red, to match Luffy’s hat, and he wears it proudly. Unlike theirs, though, it is not magically resistant, and it’s constantly having to get patched up and cleaned. Luffy doesn’t mind, though, so neither do they.

“It’s the outfit of the strong!” he proclaims to them, and they laugh and agree and let him do whatever he wants. It’s not the worst reaction to meeting a Sailor Scout, not by a long shot.

Luffy’s sailor outfit is his favorite, right up until--

Well.

“Ne, Ace,” he says, standing on the cliff and looking out at the sea. “I thought the Sailor Scouts were strong.”

“Yeah,” Ace says, and if it comes out scratchy, well, Luffy won’t mind. “Yeah, I thought they were too.”

“I need to get strong on my own, don’t I?” Luffy asks.

“Yeah. I think maybe we both do.”

“Okay,” Luffy says, and he untucks the skirt from his shorts waistband and holds it up, letting the wind drag it away and out over the ways. “I’m gonna get strong in my own way, and then stronger, and then stronger still!”

“Yeah,” Ace says, because yeah, he’d’ve wanted that. Wouldn’t he?

He watches Luffy grow up, there on that overlook, and put aside make-pretend moon magic to focus on his reality, a reality where they were one brother lonelier. It hurts like failure and sits in his chest like heartache, and the very worst part of all is how jealous he is that Luffy has the freedom to do that.

“The freest in the world,” he murmurs, watching Luffy, and he believes, firmly and entirely, that Luffy can do that. And the least he can to is dedicate his life to clearing a path for that, which means getting stronger in his own way.

Luffy gives up magic and Ace shoulders the burden for both--for all three of them.


	2. a terrible horrible no good very bad life or whatever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bad luck started when he was born and hasn't quit yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: lots of strong language. ace is very upset.
> 
> [Phenomenal art](http://ccyans.tumblr.com/post/180390774875/midnightluck-for-the-sailor-ace-au-i-cannot) by [ccyans](http://ccyans.tumblr.com/) of this pretty grumpy boy.
> 
> [Posing Sailor Ace](https://lemonpervert.tumblr.com/post/178534778168/fiery-pirate-sailor-ace) by [lemonpervert](http://lemonpervet.tumblr.com/) is magical and fiery!  
> Also, this is because Cole. You know what you did.

Ace shades his eyes with his hand and looks around. The town square is a bustle of chaos in the bright sunshine and it could be any large island in East Blue.

It’s not, though; it’s the first time his boots have hit dirt in the Grand Line, and that makes this island special. He’s gonna explore it and eat everything, talk to everyone, and see if he’s got himself a Wanted poster yet.

It’s probably a bit early for that but there’s something about the air, the sunlight, the noise that’s making him a bit paranoid. It doesn’t feel like he’s being watched, not exactly, more like there’s something just a bit off.

There’s a scent in the air, though, of cooking meat, and he follows his nose to the market square. The object being offered is some kind of meat-onna-stick, and despite his time in forests and with Luffy, he can’t quite identify what kind of animal it’s from.

He gets one anyway. It’s delicious.

There’s a lot that’s familiar here; he knows villages and markets, after all, but there’s a lot that’s new, too. A flower booth is selling blooms he’s never seen and one plant turns to watch him pass by.

He walks with his hands in his pockets, looking but not touching. It’s all new and interesting, but also he’s getting twitchy and thinking about leaving. Which, why? He’s only just got here, after all--

The creeping feeling of wrong that’s been slowly edging up his spine is now flooding his mouth with a bitter taste, like bile and black coffee, and he swallows on the urge to retch. There’s something wrong here. He spins in place, looking around, but no one else seems to notice that there’s something off, something _badwrong_ \--

The roar shakes the walls, and for all the feeling is stronger than ever, Ace blows out a breath in relief; having a target always did make him feel better.

He orients on the sound and there’s a--that’s--it’s kinda...it’s like a tall, spindly creature made of smoke, darkness and horrors rising above the houses on the other side of the square. It’s screaming in a voice of nightmares and the sound of it pins Ace in place.

“It’s a youma!” someone’s yelling, and that word clicks in place in Ace’s heart even as he spins.

“A what?!” he yells, dodging some kind of dark beam thing that the youma is scattering.

“A youma, it’s a--” the guy is stuttering, and Ace grabs his arm and drags him along to the side of the street. “Youmas are--they’re like--”

The youma roars again and the guy drops, cowering and wrapping his arms over his head. Ace huffs and paces back out into the square. The thing roars, which means it breathes, and if it breathes, Ace can kill it.

He lights his arm with fire and braces his feet.

“Duck!”

Ace doesn’t duck; he turns and has to flinch back from a shattershot of golden beams, one of which passes so close it singes the brim of his hat. “Hey! Watch it!”

_“Crescent Beam!”_

Ace falls back to avoid the next barrage and lands on the ground at the same time as orange kitten heels touch down. His gaze travels up past the frankly alarming amount of leg on show, the remarkably short skirt, bow, sailor bib, and gold tiara.

It’s an outfit he knows intimately, though not in quite this color.

“What the hell?” he says helplessly. “Why? What? _Why?”_

The youma lights up gold, limned in power, and shatters in a way that’s not quite real. There’s a person behind the monster, and they fall to their knees and collapse in the middle of the road.

“What,” Ace says, “the fuck was that?”

The Sailor Scout--Venus, something in him knows--sighs and steps forward, nudging the person with one sparkly shoe. “A youma,” Venus says. “You must not be from around here.”

“No,” he says grimly, “I’m not.”

“It’s not your problem, yoi,” Venus says, crouching to check on the person, then standing up and wiping one hand on the skirt--is it shorter than his? It looks shorter than his. “Fighting youma is the duty of the Sailor Scouts. They’ll never go for a civilian when there’s a Scout around. No need to worry, yoi.”

“No need to worry?” Ace repeats incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The look Venus tosses him is unimpressed. “Gotta go. Oh, and next time?” Ace looks up just in time to meet a pointed gaze. “When a Sailor Scout yells duck? You should probably duck.”

And with a flounce and a jump, Venus is gone, leaving Ace on his butt in the middle of the street with what he’s rapidly coming to suspect may be an actual corpse.

“I hate the Grand Line,” he says blankly, and gets up.

“Captain?” someone asks, and he turns to find Masked Deuce. “You okay?”

“No! I mean, yeah, just--I’m not hurt, just angry,” Ace says. “I don’t understand. Am I some kind of Sailor Scout magnet? The last thing I want is to see another Sailor Scout as long as I live. Why are they always showing up around me?!”

“There, there,” Masked Deuce says, grabbing hold of his elbow and towing him out of the square.

“Especially Sailor Moon!” Ace yells, waving his free arm around. “Why even is there moon magic? Why are there planet warriors in short skirts? Why is this necessary? No, really, I wanna know! Why! Is! This! Necessary?!”

“It’s okay,” Masked Deuce says soothingly. “C’mon, Saber heard something about the Red Force--”

_“Who decided this was a good idea?!”_

“Okay, okay, captain. Breathe, please. Let’s go chase a yonko for a while, that always cheers you up…”

Ace yells incoherently and only doesn’t throw fire ‘cause his first mate is so close.

They do get back to the ship without incident, though, and Ace goes straight to his bunk and screams into his pillow for a while. It’s not very helpful in solving any of his problems, but it sure does make him feel better.

What also makes him feel better is that Saber’s information is pretty recent and seems to actually be right. The port’s not even that far away, even if it is a winter island. He drags his crew there anyway, all the way up a mountain, and finds Shanks, after all these years, sitting around a bonfire in a cave, completely drunk.

“Hi,” he says, stepping forward to bow. “My name’s Ace—”

“Princess!” Shanks cheers, raising a toast, and everyone in the cave freezes.

“What…?” Ace grits out, and Saber and Masked Deuce are there, tugging at his shoulders, even as Benn sighs and says to Shanks, “You can’t just—”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Shanks says, waving him off. “Hey, Princess! Long time, no see!”

Ace stares at him, fists clenching, and then he sighs, long and loud, and sits in place. “How’d you know?” he asks plaintively, and his crew hits the floor behind him.

“Makino said you’d left,” Shanks says, and Ace squints at him, then past him, and lets his eyes go just a bit unfocused—

“Oh no,” he says, and now he can see it, the smugness and the hedonism and the massive, terrifying power like barely sheathed claws, and the barely-there tail. “Oh no. You’re the other cat.”

Shanks doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t deny it either. “It’s been so long since we’ve had a proper Princess,” he says instead. “Hey! Hey Benn! Benn, hey, bring another barrel! This calls for a party!”

“Everything calls for a party,” Benn mutters, but he makes a gesture and the rest of Shanks’ crew cheers wildly and starts rolling barrels up from the back of the cave.

“Princess?” Masked Deuce asks beside Ace, and he can feel his hands clenching into fists again.

“He, uh,” Ace answers, and then thinks, _to hell with it_. “Shanks saved my little brother’s life. As far as I’m concerned, he can call me anything he wants.”

“Little brother?” Shanks says, leaning up just a bit. “The lineage never throws spares—”

“Luffy,” Ace says determinedly right over him. “The little kid who stole your your devil fruit and stabbed himself in the face.”

The entire cave grinds to a stop and Shanks actually sits up properly. “Luffy?” he asks. “But he’s—well, that’s an interesting turn for that relationship to take; don’t think it’s ever been siblings before.” There’s a weight on him, like Shanks’ gaze is pressing down with the ineffable feeling Ace always ascribes to _moon magic bullshit_. Then he blinks and laughs and says, “But Luffy! Wow! How’s the little anchor doing?”

Everyone crowds around close and Ace relaxes a bit, grinning. Finally, he gets to indulge in his favorite pastime—bragging about his brother.

 

* * *

  

“Hey,” Saber says, leaning cautiously into the room. “There’s a Marine? On deck? For you?”

“What?” Ace says, scrambling up. Why would the Marines be here? But wait, only one? The only Marine he knows who’d dare to come alone—but no, there’d be more screaming if it were Gramps—

It’s a single guy, blond and bland, and no one Ace recognizes at all. His eyes flick to the guy’s face, then his jacket cuffs, then his shoulders, and then he takes a step forward, lights one hand up, and says, “Can I _help you_ , Petty Officer?”

The poor Petty Officer shrinks back. “Uh,” he says, eyes stuck on Ace’s flaming fist, and then he quickly reaches into a pocket and pulls out—well, it looks like a sheaf of papers.

It _looks like_ the enrollment form Gramps has waved at him several times over the years. Ace’s eyes stick to it and he takes a step forward. “ _What_ ,” he grits out, “is _that?”_

“On—on behalf of the Marine High Command,” the guy says, and he’s maybe babbling a bit but Ace doesn’t care. “I am authorized to hereby extend the offer of a truce in the capacity of a shichibu—Ouch!”

The yelp is more of surprise than pain because the papers in his hand just ignited and burnt themselves out so fast and bright they may as well have been flash paper.

“Get out,” Ace says, shaking in place with barely contained rage.

“But I’m to—”

“Get. Out,” Ace says, and takes a single heavy step forward.

The Marine eeps, breaks, and runs.

“Where’s the Moby Dick?” he asks no one in particular, and there’s a short, vicious fight behind his back as to who gets to tell him.

Masked Deuce loses because he really has the worst luck. “It’s,” he starts, then swallows. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

There’s rage rising in him like the tide, like magma, and Ace is looking at the deck, he knows he is, but all he can see is red. “I’m sure I need to _murder something_ right now,” he says, and entirely without his consent, his shoulders burst into flame.

“We—we don’t know,” Masked Deuce says, shrinking back from the heat.

“Then who’s the closest Shichibukai,” Ace demands, and Masked Deuce says, “Well, uh, actually—”

“Hello,” says a polite voice, and Ace turns around slowly. “As a current shichibukai, I’ve been asked to discuss the offer with you,” the well-dressed fishman states, setting foot on Ace’s boat.

He looks vaguely familiar and Ace squints at him. “And _who_ ,” he says slowly, “the fuck are _you?”_

“Ah, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Jinbe, formerly of Fishmen Island, shichibukai, and current holder of the power of the Jupiter line—”

Ace’s scream comes bubbling up from the depths of his hatred, and he _attacks_.

Everything disappears in a swirl of fire, then water, and then, of course, superheated steam. Jinbe is strong, he’s fierce, and he’s got some serious moves, but Ace has stamina, and if he can’t beat the guy, he can sure as hell outlast him.

 

* * *

  

“You are a worthy opponent,” Jinbe says, somewhere around day three. “Are you sure you won’t come be a shichibukai?”

“Shichi _go die_ ,” Ace spits back, chest heaving with the effort of breathing.

“Very well,” Jinbe says, stepping back. “Allow me to show you my true power!”

He raises his arm and opens his mouth, and Ace knows what’s about to happen like he can see it coming in slow motion. “Nope,” he says, and dashes forward. “Nope, no, we’re not doing that.” It’s close, but he gets there in just enough time. He charges, left shoulder forward, and goes straight for the reaping sweep.

Jinbe falls backwards, arms flying up, and Ace follows him down to slap a hand over his mouth. His other hand starts prying at the wrist the fishman had raised earlier til his fingers hit metal and he scrabbles for it. Bracelet? Bracer? Some kind of metal, and he scrambles back off of Jinbe, taking the object with him.

“What—”

Ace retreats as far as he’s willing to, then looks down. It is a bracer, a large metal one, all fancy with sigils and symbols and the sign of Jupiter front and center. “Can’t _transform_ if you don’t have your _transformation item_ ,” Ace snarls, clutching it tightly.

“How did you—”

Ace drops it on the ground behind him and Jinbe gasps and lunges. Ace and kicks it backwards, out of range, and says, “Don’t worry; I won’t break it. Besides, transformation objects aren’t that fragile.”

“And how do you know this?” Jinbe says, back in stance and watching him warily.

“A drunk moon cat told me,” Ace lies, and charges back into the fight.

 

* * *

 

 He wakes up on the shore. There’s no telling how long he’s been out, or even how long he fought Jinbe, really, but he’s damn sure it wasn’t him who passed out first.

He’s sore, empty in a cold kind of way, and blinking hurts. He feels better, though; calmer and less unbalanced.

It’s nice to just lie there and breathe for a bit, right up til someone pokes him in the side and says, “You dead?”

Ugh. He flips over, curling away from the foot, rocks back on his spine and pushes up into a jackknife jump that puts him on his feet.

The person who’d poked him has fallen back a step and gone glassy. Literally, his skin has gone hard and white and reflective.

Ace blinks. He’s never seen anything like that before, but then his eyes fall on the tattoo and that he certainly has.

He growls, turning to look around, and sure enough there’s a small fleet of landing boats coming from the absolutely massive ship in the distance. And there’s Whitebeard himself, standing proud on a flat-bottomed landing boat, so Ace backs up, takes a few running steps, and leaps.

The boat is too far away for a single jump, even from someone like Ace. Luckily, he doesn’t have to rely only on that; he leans forward and lights up his arms, using the heat and momentum to give himself an extra boost.

He lands hard, in a crouch, and doesn’t bother cutting off the fire to his hands. Whitebeard’s turned to look at him, though, and Ace grins, a wide slash of rage across his face.

“All right,” he says, raising up from his crouch, fire rising around him and in his eyes. “I am having a very bad day. Week. Life, whatever. And I’ve got some _stress_ that needs working out.” He cracks his knuckles and saunters forward, leaving fire in his wake. “And the thing about my bad days? They’re contagious.”

And he slams his fist down, setting the entire dingy on fire, and he laughs and laughs and laughs.

He laughs all the way up til talons wrap around his arms and haul him straight up, and then his laughs turn into screams and threats as the big blue fire bird carries him away to the Moby Dick proper. There’s a booming laugh following them, and Ace looks back to see Whitebeard, still standing tall on the flaming boat, laughing as they go.

Ace sets himself on fire again and yells to be let down, flailing upwards with flame. The bird ignores him,, circling lower and does drop him, just a bit too high for a safe descent.

He sticks the landing anyway, turning to scream more obscenities at the sky, and the bird circles around, coming in low and hitting the ground as a person. He’s an oddly familiar man, Ace thinks, squinting; he’s sure he’s seen this guy before.

“You,” the guy says, straightening from his landing, “are more trouble than you’re worth, yoi.”

“Thanks,” Ace says, and spits on the deck.

“Why would you set fire to the boat you’re on when you know you can’t swim?”

“Because _fuck you_ , that’s why!”

Blondie throws up his hands and walks away, and a tall guy with a truly ridiculous hairstyle pops up next to him. “Hey Marco, what—oh, new kid. Hey, new kid! What’s your name?”

“Don’t bother,” apparently-Marco says. “He’s not staying.”

“Damn right I’m not,” Ace agrees. “I’m just here to _kill you all_ and then I'll be on my merry way to anywhere but here."

“Kill us all?” the new guy says, and a third person pops up, lanky and dressed in oddly old-fashioned ruffles.

“Yeah,” she says, “this is that new rookie that’s got everyone in a tizzy, remember? Fire Fist Ace. He’s apparently aiming to kill Pops, though the whole mass murder thing is new.”

“Yeah, well,” Ace says, standing up and cracking his spine, then flicking one hand into fire. “I hadn’t planned on it, but then I _met you_ , so…”

Marco turns and leaves, and the redhead with the hair as long as his shoulders are wide, makes a quiet noise in his throat. “I’m Thatch and I’m reluctantly charmed,” he says, sticking out his hand.

Ace looks at him, looks at his hand, and then looks down to his own hand which is still _on fire_. Whitebeard laughs at murder attempts, Marco grabs people who are on fire, and now this. Does _no one_ on this ship have any sense of self-preservation?

“You’re all mad,” Ace says blankly.

“Probably,” the other person says, and she’s laughing at him, he can tell. “Don’t worry, you’ll fit right in.”

“You’ll fit in a coffin when I’m done with you,” Ace answers. “I’m gonna kill your Captain if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

His pride is on the line, and his crew, and if there’s one thing Ace can’t do, it’s give up.

 

* * *

 

 He’s been on this ship for too long, he knows, because he’s starting to do dumb things like actually _learn people's names_ and, like, _care_ and shit.

This isn’t the first island they’ve docked at since Ace has been aboard, but it’s always a good distraction. The Moby Dick is out in the harbor, half the crew is ashore, and it’s a perfect time for a spot of murder.

He’s tried straight-forward and he’s tried subtle; time to try sneaky.

So he helps himself to the biggest axe he can find and comes at Whitebeard from behind, screaming loudly.

Marco’s there, suddenly, because Marco’s always there. Marco catches the axe blade in taloned feet and wrenches it out his hands, dropping it to the deck and landing on the back of Whitebeard’s chair. “Really?” he asks. “Just—with the axe? And the ambush? _Really?”_

A month ago—a week ago—he might has screamed with thwarted rage, but now he just sighs and skulks off around the chair. He has to rework tomorrow’s plan, then, if—

Someone on the island _screams_.

Ace’s head jerks around, and the way the horizon’s just a bit darker has his eyes flickering and he draws in a deep breath. Yeah, it’s there, just subtle—like copper and smoke.

“Pops,” Marco says, and Ace looks back.

“Go,” Whitebeard says, and Marco takes a few running steps, jumps for the railing, and leaps off and away, wings already spread.

“That’s a youma,” Ace says, watching Marco fly towards it.

“Yeah,” Thatch says, and sighs. “I’m gonna go make some cinnamon muffins; he’s always in a bad mood after these.”

“After these…?” Ace repeats, and Haruta leans against the rail next to him.

“Yeah, he hates killing people,” she says, shading her eyes with one hand. “Can’t be helped, though, until we find the Moon Princess.”

Ace freezes. “Moon….Princess…?” he repeats.

“Yeah, she’s the only one who can heal,” Haruta explains. “All the Scouts can fight the youma, and they can break the curse, but only the Princess can heal them of it. Marco knows it’s necessary but he still hates it. Guess that’s what makes him such a good Venus.”

“Venus,” Ace says flatly. “Marco. Is Venus.”

“What, you didn’t know? It’s only the worst kept secret on the Moby Dick. Hey, wait, where are you going?”

“I think I need to go for a swim,” Ace says woodenly.

“But you can’t swim.”

“Yeah,” Ace says. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

Marco set the bowl of stew down, and Ace doesn’t look up from where his head is buried in his knees. He certainly doesn’t say thanks, but he’s been starting to feel bad about that.

The stew smells great, though, and Marco turns to go, to let him eat in peace. Marco, who’s Venus. Marco, who has the heritage of a Sailor Scout and yet also has a family. His crew knows everything about him; isn’t that dangerous?

“Hey,” Ace says, and Marco looks back. “They--your crew. They don’t care? About the whole…magic thing? About you being…different?”

Marco looks back and smiles, and there’s an uncomplicated kind of joy there that Ace isn’t ready for. He looks away. “No one cares about secrets here,” Marco says. “We’re family, yoi. We support each other, no matter what.”

Ace swallows, and then he asks, “Why…why do you call him Pops?”

Marco turns fully, and Ace looks up at him. His smile is gentle and happy, and he says, “Because he calls us his sons.”

Ace looks back at that painful happiness, then down at the bowl of stew. “Okay,” he says, and swallows. Then he closes his eyes, lets his head thunk back against the railing, and says, “Yeah, okay."


	3. ace does a Real Big Dumb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace is not used to being on this side of the fire murder sprees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first story in this series, cause that cartoon has got the boom anime babes, goes between last chapter and this one. tl;dr of it: everyone thinks Ace has a crush on Sailor Moon, Sailor Moon saves lives and kicks ass, and Marco loves his family very much.

“Hey,” Haruta says, coming to stand over Ace’s shoulder. “Whatcha doing?”

“You probably don’t recognize it,” Ace says. “It’s called  _ work _ .”

Haruta makes a face and a rude gesture, and Ace ignores her.

“Are you ignoring me? How very very dare you.” She perches on his back, high on the shoulders, and he dips forward under her weight.

She bounces a bit, forcing his shoulders lower, and he waits until she does it again and lets himself fall forward beneath her weight, all the way to the deck.

She yelps and slides off, and he snickers, propping himself up on his elbows. “Hey!” she says. “No fair!”

“You know,” Thatch says, squinting at him, “You’re surprisingly flexible.”

Ace glances up at him, and makes a face, grabs at his side, and says, “Oops, think I’m cramping. Ow, ow, ow.”

“Yeah, okay, super convincing,” Thatch says, rolling his eyes. “I’m convinced. Haruta, are you convinced?”

“So convinced,” she says, perching on his back again, and he sighs and sits up. This does nothing to dislodge her.

“It’s a side effect of my fruit,” he says. “Being a logia grants you a certain level of flexibility, because you don’t always have physical limbs.”

“Hmm. That’s a logical point that explains everything simply and neatly.”

It’s Ace’s turn to squint up at Thatch. “Uh…?”

“I don’t believe you.”

Ace sputters. “But—but you just said—!”

“Obviously you are super flexible from practicing Sailor Moon transformations in your room,” Thatch steamrolls right over him. “That’s the only reasonable conclusion.”

“I—what—how did you even—but  _ logic—!” _

"It's okay, Ace,” Haruta says, patting his head condescendingly. “Everyone goes through that phase and tries it at least once. I mean, we're still judging the  _ shit _ out of you, but it's totally understandable."

“Wow,” Ace says flatly. "Planning your death helps me sleep at night."

Thatch just laughs at him. "Kid, I watched you try to kill Whitebeard. Make sure to get it right first time with me, ‘kay? I don't want to have to keep taking abuse because you can't reach your goals.”

“I hate you so much,” Ace says, and Haruta leans forward enough to cause him to faceplant in the deck. “I hate each and every one of you and regret ever joining your crew.”

“No you don’t,” Thatch says, and Haruta just laughs.

The door to the main cabin slams open, and all three of them look up in just enough time to see Marco come stomping out.

“Ooh,” Thatch says. “Someone’s in a bad mood. Hey, Marco! Marco, what’s up?”

Marco stops, sighs, and then props one hand on his hip and says, “How much sake do we have?”

Thatch hums, thinking, and then counts on his fingers. “Lots,” he says.

“Let me rephrase that, yoi. That Bastard is stopping by. How much sake do we have?”

“Oh, well, in that case, not nearly enough,” Thatch says promptly.

Marco sighs, then says, “Supply run,” and stomps off.

“Everything okay?” Ace asks, propping himself up to watch Marco go. “I helped you carry in all those barrels of sake; how is that not nearly enough?”

“Have you ever seen Shanks drink?” Haruta says, leaning an elbow on his head.

“Yes,” Ace says. “Wait, he’s coming here?”

“Apparently. Wait, you’ve drunk with Shanks before? And you’re not dead?”

“I didn’t try to keep up,” Ace says. “I’m stupid, not suicidal.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Haruta says. “Well, we better get prepping. I wonder what he wants?”

“You know, I used to like cats,” Ace says, flopping back down and rolling over to look at the sky. “Then I met him.”

“Uh huh,” Thatch says. “I’m just—gonna leave you with that thought, cause apparently I need to be planning for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

“A party,” Thatch says, already leaving. “It’s always a party when Shanks shows up.”

“Always the best party,” Haruta says, getting up too. “You’ll love it.”

Ace stares up at the sky, a calm, peaceful blue, and somehow really doubts it.

 

* * *

He wasn’t wrong, either. Apparently by putting a moon cat and a Sailor Scout in close quarters you get a lot of bullshit moon magic that Ace wants nothing to do with.

The crew, on the other hand, love it.

“C’mon,” Haruta says, tugging him over. “You won’t want to miss this!”

“What is it?” He lags behind, making her work to drag him, because he’s gotta finish his drink before they get to whatever fresh hell this is gonna be.

“The Sailor transformation sequence contest,” she says and he chokes, grinding them both to a halt as he attempts to breathe through grog-filled lungs. “It’s a regular thing. Izo’s the reigning champ ‘cause Marco never plays, but since you have all that practice—”

“I’ve never done a transformation sequence in my  _ life _ ,” Ace protests, chest heaving, and Haruta grins at him.

“You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?”

Ace looks at her, looks around, and then looks at the empty mug in his hand. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he says, with feeling.

“C’mon, I’m going first!”

“Oh, well, in that case….” Ace follows her over to the crowd gathering towards the bow, and he quickly checks to make sure that damn cat is nowhere near.

He isn’t, but Thatch is, pushing through the crowd with full hands. “Here,” he says, letting Ace grab one of the cups. “Think you’re gonna need it.”

“Thanks.” He chugs it, then takes another one, and Thatch’s eyebrows go up.

“Ooookay. Well, I’ll just leave these here, then.”

“You’re a real bro, Thatch. When you’re not trying to kill or humiliate me.”

“Don’t even. You started it.”

And that’s true enough, so Ace shuts his mouth and turns to watch Haruta bounce up to the platform made of crates. “Magical Moon Transformation Sequence Go!” she shouts, then jumps a bit and spins a couple times and poses in the most exaggerated, ridiculous pose Ace has ever seen, including his own. “Sailor Moon! Magical Girl of Love and Protection! Fighting Evil by Moonlight!”

The crowd cheers raucously and she bows and steps down, yielding the floor to…is that Smith? That looks like Smith. Huh.

“Wow,” Ace says, and takes the rest of the drinks from Thatch.

This is gonna be a long night.

It’s kinda enjoyable, though, to watch other people look as dumb as he’s always felt, and some of them are halfway decent.

The best, by far, is Izo. He ascends to loud applause and strikes a pose that’s far more stately and classy than anything Ace has ever managed. His movements are precise and controlled and it’s a lot more like watching a dance than a forced magical transformation.

Izo swirls one more time, then strikes the pose and says gravely, “In the name of the Moon, I bring justice.”

Everyone applauds and Ace bites his tongue so hard he draws blood. He takes another sip of rum to wash the taste away.

“Your turn,” Thatch says, shoulder-checking Ace, and he chokes on the rum and coughs relentlessly for a few seconds.

“What,” he wheezes eventually. “No. I’m—thanks, I’m good.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Haruta says, draping herself across his back. “We know you’re bendy, and you’ve got the hair for it. You’d make a great Sailor Moon!”

“I,” Ace says grimly, “would make the worst Moon Princess ever.” And then he takes another large swallow of rum.

“Tell ya what,” Thatch says, leaning forward. “If you give it a go, just once, we’ll stop teasing you about your crush.”

“No you won’t.”

“You probably can’t do a convincing transformation anyway,” Jozu says, and Ace snorts.

“Exactly,” he says. “And I’m also too smart to fall for that.”

“Okay, but consider,” Haruta says right behind his ear. “If you  _ don’t _ do this, I’ll tell everyone about last month on South—”

“Fine!” Ace says, surging to his feet and shedding Haruta like an old coat. “Sure, whatever, it’s just the transformation sequence, right? How hard can it even be?”

“Harder than you’d think,” Izo says, taking a graceful seat.

“It’s  _ magic _ ,” Ace says. “It’s not hard at all.”

Then he sticks his empty hand in the air, just like Izo had done, and says, “Moon Power Makeover!” There’s a tug inside, but it’s not close enough, not really.

Doesn’t seem to matter to his body, though, because the second he starts the spin, muscle memory takes over. It's so easy to go through, even if he isn't levitating or rotating properly without his magic to buffer him.

It's easy to do the twirl and the arms, then boot tap here and leg lift there—he’s never had issues getting his knees up high enough, thank the Blues—and then it's the tuck jump into the hair flip. It's all so easy, and he really doesn't mean to but it's habit to fall into the end pose, one hand on his hip and one making the V on his forehead. He holds the damn pose for the two seconds the magic generally forces him to, and then the blush starts and he steps out of it.

“There,” he says. “I did the thing. Are you happy now?”

There’s a rather sizable amount of applause and Ace grabs his bottle back from Thatch, who’s laughing at him.

“That’s not even close,” Thatch says, which is a terrible and blatant lie.

Ace upturns the bottle to prevent himself from defending the accuracy of his own transformation. It’s also helping him forget how awful everything—and every _ one _ —in his life is.

There’s plenty of drink to go around, and a few more crew members try their hand at transformation sequences. Izo’s is still probably the most graceful, but Ace knows his is still the most accurate.

“Ace,” Haruta says, a long time and many drinks later. “Ace—you should do the thing.”

“No,” Ace says, mostly on autopilot.

“You absolutely should,” Thatch agrees, as drunk as the rest of them.

“But—” Haruta says, leaning in and exhaling rum breath at him. “But if you do the thing, then I’ll tell you a thing.”

“It better be a really great thing,” Ace says thoughtlessly. It's still a bad idea but he’s been stewing over this since Thatch insulted him, so he lurches upwards once again. Haruta slips and loses her balance, sitting down heavily and immediately falling asleep.

It’s really late--or very early, really--and the crowd is much smaller. Those who are sober are gone to bed, and those who remain are mostly blind drunk, so it stands to reason that Shanks is holding court on the other side of the deck with Pops, telling a story that Ace wants nothing to do with.

Instead, he focuses; he doesn’t say any words this time, but there’s a tug, just a bit, a little guiding force that he usually spends a lot of effort ignoring. It’s grace and balance, though, and he needs that right now—he’s too drunk to twirl without it.

It’s different, this one, but it’s just as easy. His arms fall into just the right pose and he chants, “Suit, nails, gloves, boots,  _ skirt _ ,” to himself at the appropriate stages. There’s a backbend on that last one, and when he goes in for the tuck jump this time, he’s already rotating into it, and maybe there’s a bit of magic inherent in the motions because he has just enough time to get all the way around and still stick the landing.

Maybe it’s that same magic, but it’s probably the rum that has him holding the pose, and the words are right there, just like always. "The pretty guardian of love and justice! Sailor Moon!” Pose, two count, arm windmill, switch weight from one hip to the other and step out, and—“And in the name of the moon, I will punish you!"

“That’s just as amazing as I thought it would be,” Thatch says, and there’s a large drunken cheer for him. Ace steps out of it and snatches the bottle right out of Thatch’s hand.

“See, I can do an accurate transformation,” he says, and takes a swig.

“I said amazing, not accurate,” Thatch says, trying to grab the bottle back. Ace scowls and turns, taking another a gulp to keep it away from Thatch. “Sailor Moon’s transformation is not like that at all.”

“Yeah?” Ace says when he comes up for air.

“Yeah,” Thatch says. “Have you ever even seen a Sailor Scout transformation? There’s so much more magic and bending.”

“Well  _ excuse me _ for being human and not having moon magic!”

“You’re excused,” Thatch says graciously. “Just as long as you do it again, and right this time.”

Ace sees red. “ _ Fine _ ,” he grits out, and shoves the bottle in Thatch’s face. “You want it  _ done fucking right _ ?” He wraps a hand around his necklace, whirls around and says, “Moon Prism  _ fucking _ Makeup!”

Apparently adding a word doesn’t matter in the face of intent, and the familiar glitterwind wraps around him, comforting and warm, and he doesn’t fight a single part of it, not this time.

It ends with the pose and the wink and Ace points at Thatch and shrieks, “ _ Is that accurate enough, you fucking maniac? _ Now  _ leave me alone _ !”

He stomps off across the deck to find literally anywhere else to be, and orients on Marco, sitting on the deck at the rail with his legs dangling over the edge. “Marco,” he whines as he comes up next to him. “Everything is awful and I hate Thatch.”

“Yes, Ace,” Marco sighs. “I know, yoi. You guys do this every other da…y…?”

Ace leans down and reaches for the mug Marco’s drinking from and Marco doesn’t even protest. Ace glances down and sees Marco staring at him. “What?”

“…Sailor Moon?”

“What? Oh,” And Ace drops the transformation, making sure his knees are together when he falls to sit next to Marco. “Thatch gave me lots of rum. Like, a very lots. Much many lots of rum. And then he told me I couldn’t do the Sailor Moon transformation. Shows what he knows. Does he have moon magic? No, he doesn’t, so what does he know about transformations anyways?!"

“But—but Sailor Moon?!”

“Exactly, so if anyone knows how the transformations go, it’s  _ me _ . By the way, why do you have stars?”

“Wha—”

“Why not hearts? Isn't Venus love? Why do you have stars?"

"Buh. Whu—wait, no, back up. You're Sailor Moon??!?"

Ace hushes him loudly. “Shh! Don’t tell anyone!”

“Ace, you just  _ transformed in the middle of the deck  _ and then  _ flounced over here in full costume _ .”

Ace squints at him, then around at the loudly partying pirates, and then says, "Yeah, but I'm drunk, so no one will remember it in the morning."

“ _ Ace _ ,” Marco hisses wildly, “that is  _ not how this works _ , yoi.”

“You worry too much,” Ace says and leans over to steal his drink. “I’m just gonna—" and he passes out, halfway through the motion.

“You’re the Princess,” Marco says, and then has to catch Ace’s limp body before he slips off the edge and overboard. “Oh shit.”

 

* * *

“Ugh,” Ace says, propping himself up on Haruta’s shoulder. He doesn’t do hangovers, not really but there’s a headache behind his eyes, a sour taste in his mouth, and the nagging feeling he’d done a Real Big Dumb.

“Same,” Haruta agrees. “I’m never drinking again, never ever.”

“Sure,” Ace says, smacking his lips and reaching for the cup of water on the table. “You always say that.”

“I always mean it, too, right up until next time.”

“Uh huh. Hey, by the way, do you, like, remember last night…?”

“’bout as much as you, probably. I think Izo won the contest, didn’t he?”

“Probably,” Ace agrees and downs the entire cup of water in one go. “His was definitely the most graceful.”

“Here,” Thatch says, setting a tray with a pitcher of water and several oversized coffees on it, and it would be nice except for the way he’s twitching and refusing to look at either of them.

“You okay?” Ace asks, reaching for the pitcher.

“You hungover too?” Haruta asks, and Ace turns the pitcher up and chugs most of it in one go. “Hey! I wanted some of that!”

Ace shrugs, then upends what little is left over his head, shaking his hair out. It is actually helping him wake up, and the disgusted sounds Haruta makes are just a bonus.

“You know,” she says. “I  _ was _ gonna tell you the newest rumor about your dearest love, Sailor Moon, but now—”

The last of the coffee mugs is slammed down so hard it spills everywhere, and Thatch grabs his now-empty tray and says, very loudly and without breathing, “Ace hates Sailor Moon and we’re done with that.”

An awkward kind of silence falls over the dining hall as everyone watches Thatch twitch his way back to the kitchen.

“Wow,” Haruta says, watching him putter around behind the counter. “That’s weird.”

“Definitely,” Ace agrees. “Thatch, you’ve never respected my feelings before; why start now?”

“I am a good brother and I listen when you say things and I respect you and your emotions,” Thatch says, but it’s stilted and still too loud. “You said you hate Sailor Moon and I believe you and I will stop everything immediately. Ha ha. Ha.”

“I don’t like this,” Ace says slowly, staring at him.

“He’s keeping secrets,” Haruta says, sitting up straight. There’s a light in her eyes and a set to her chin that has Ace leaning out of her way. She no longer looks hungover at all. “Be right back,” she says, absently grabbing one of the coffees and sauntering over to the service window, leaning on it and catching Thatch’s attention.

It’s just too far away for Ace to eavesdrop, so he goes back to his own coffee, right up until someone slides into place across the table from him.

“So,” Marco says, and Ace glances up. “About that whole Moon Princess thing…”

Ace goes stiff and says, “What Moon Princess thing?”

“Oh, you know, last night? When you transformed into Sailor Moon, yoi. Right on the main deck, in front of everyone?”

“Ha ha,” Ace grits out, and it’s about as convincing as Thatch’s laugh was. “What lies are you lying?”

“Oh,” Marco says, taking one of the coffee mugs for his own. “I was just gonna answer your question, yoi.”

There’s a cold sweat starting oh his neck and Ace scrubs his palms against his shorts and makes a sound that’s half-prompt and half-dying.

“Yeah,” Marco says, leaning in. “I dunno why it’s stars either.”

Ace stares at him, and then decides he’s had a hard enough morning and starts to slowly melt his way under the table. He uses the bench to hold himself up and stares at the bottom of the table. “Don’t,” he says quietly. “Marco, please. You can’t…”

Marco sighs. “I couldn’t believe it, and I saw it, yoi. I don’t think anyone would believe me if I did tell them. Well, besides Thatch, but he knows. You scared him sober, I think.”

“They can’t know,” Ace says, and he means  _ you can’t know _ , but it’s apparently too late for that. “It’s a--it’s dangerous, Marco. Don’t--promise me you won’t.”

A lot of people know who the last Sailor Moon was, though, and some of them even know Sailor Lineages descend by blood. Being Sailor Moon has always been, and will always be, a death sentence.

“I won’t,” Marco promises like it’s easy, the bastard. “I wouldn’t anyway, yoi. I don’t tell secrets that aren’t mine.”

Ace closes his eyes and tries to breathe.

“I think it’s okay,” Marco says after a minute. “It was pretty late in the evening, yoi. I think most people really were too drunk to remember, or even notice.”

“Notice what? Oh, sup, Princess,” Shanks says from directly behind him and Ace jumps so hard he slams the top of his head into the bottom of the table. Shanks sits down on the bench next to him and reaches under the table to pat him on the head. There’s a mug in his other hand full of something that is alcoholic enough to make Ace’s eyes water even from the floor.

“I’m gonna murder you to death,” Ace says, but that would mean leaving the ground and honestly, it’s kinda nice under the table; it’s darker and noises are quieter.

“You’re adorable,” Shanks says fondly and then chugs the entire mug in one go. Ace watches him and swallows on bile. “Ugh, I hate you Sailor scouts and your magical immunity to hangovers. It’s not fair.”

“It’s a logia thing, not a Sailor thing,” Ace says, and he sighs and hauls himself back up to sit on the bench, taking the last coffee mug and propping his elbows on the table.

“Oh, really? Know this for a fact, do you?” Shanks elbows him in the side and Ace hisses and scoots a bit away because the man’s elbows are  _ sharp _ .

“Well, yeah. This one when we were real young, we stole like three bottles of sake and—and we…drank them.”

“Wow, kid,” Shanks says. “Learn to tell a story, would ya? That sucked.”

“No, you know what sucks? Being the  _ goddamn Moon Princess _ . You wanna be an actual helpful cat and explain how to make it all go away?”

_ “What, _ ” Marco says.

Shanks looks Ace over, then says, “Naaaaaah. That’d take all the fun out of it, don’t you think?”

“I  _ don’t _ think,” Ace says, and nearly burns his mouth on the coffee. Then he remembers nothing can burn him and chugs the whole thing.

“I know, kid; I know.”

“You  _ know _ ,” Marco repeats. “You know? You know how to  _ make this go away _ , yoi?”

“I thought you didn’t mind being Venus,” Ace says, remembering a close fight and a different drunk night’s conversation.

Shanks laughs, surprised and gleeful, and Marco’s fists light up in flame.

“It would involve finding some legendary stupid gem,” Ace says hurriedly. “Get all the Sailor Scouts together to finish the mission and thus break the cycle of reincarnation? I dunno; he told me but I was drunk.”

“To be fair, I was too,” Shanks says cheerfully. “Still, mostly right.”

“I didn’t even know it was a possibility,” Marco grits out, and Ace sighs.

“It  _ was _ . It isn’t anymore; it would involve us all working together, but Mercury is dead and who the fuck knows where the others are, so."

“Pft, really kid? Sailor Scouts don’t die.”

Ace stares at him and Marco urges to his feet, shoulders lit up. “Haruta,” he says without turning around, and she squeaks from the counter. “Find me the Sailor Scouts.”

“But—but we saw Mercury die,” Ace says, heart in his throat and voice unsteady.

“What…?” Haruta says, stepping closer.

Marco slams a flaming fist down on the table and turns his head to lock eyes with Haruta. “Find me. The  _ Sailor Scouts _ .”

She squeaks “On it, Boss,” and turns to run, and half the dining room flees behind her.

Shanks just yawns, stretching luxuriously, and Ace can almost see his non-existent ears go back and his not-there tail wave. “If one of the Scouts had died, we’d know. Mercury’s alive, kid, and doing just fine.”

Ace goes white, clenching his fists, and then a real ugly shade of puce. “That rat fucking bastard,” he says. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Shanks laughs some more. “That’d kinda defeat the purpose, though, am I right?”

“You never told me we could get it  _ gone _ ,” Marco says, turning that terrible anger to Shanks, who shrugs carelessly.

“You never asked—hey!”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Marco says calmly, and then tries to.

“Huh,” Ace says, absently stealing the rest of Marco’s coffee and watching them squabble.

“You good?” Thatch asks, stepping up next to him with his own cup of coffee, because Thatch is brave and dumb and didn’t run in the face of fire or murder.

“Yeah,” Ace says, watching Marco attempt to light Shanks on fire. “I’ve just never been on this side of this before. It’s kinda weird.”

Thatch huffs a laugh and sits down next to him. “Hey,” he says. “Y’know, I’m--I am sorry. I really am. I should have listened.”

Ace takes another sip to buy himself some time. “You should have,” he agrees, because that’s definitely true, and then starts trying to feel his way through the tangled mess of the rest of it. “But it’s--it was okay. Because it was annoying and misplaced and--and the  _ obscenity _ , Thatch, I did not need that--but you did it because you care. I mean, I think that’s why. Right?”

Thatch grins at him, leaning in to bump his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re family and I want you to be happy. That’s all I wanted for you, you know?”

“Yeah,” Ace lies, and swallows on nothing. “Yeah, so. It’s--whatever. Apology accepted.”

Thatch nods, and they watch as Shanks stumbles by, laughing and somehow managing to trip Marco in the process. “So,” Thatch says finally. “Sailor Moon, huh?”

“Just because I have forgiven you,” Ace says, lighting his own hand on fire, “does not mean I won’t stab you in your sleep.”

He laughs and ignores all the fire to sling his arm over Ace’s shoulders in a sideways hug. “I won’t tell anyone,” he promises. “And not because your adorable angry murder threats. Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Thanks,” Ace says, and means it. 

“But hey,” Thatch says suddenly, “About Haruta--”

“Right,” Ace says, turning his shoulders to flame. It was nice while it’d lasted, but it’s still Thatch. “Fire death time.”

Thatch beams at him. “Love you too, bro,” he says, and then he starts running.


End file.
